


Ten Feet Under and Upside Down

by anyothergirl415



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, M/M, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-03
Updated: 2009-10-03
Packaged: 2017-10-26 22:43:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/288694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anyothergirl415/pseuds/anyothergirl415
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>It’s the real beginning of their fate, their first crawls down a path that will stretch into the unknown future. Side by side. Dean watching his brother with wonder and awe. Sammy with unquestioning devotion. </i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Ten Feet Under and Upside Down

The first word Sammy ever says is De. And it’s more of a mixture of a consonant and a vowel but four year old Dean jumps around and cheers happily. Daddy’s on the phone in the other room and even though Dean is just _bursting_ to tell someone, he knows better than to interrupt Daddy while he’s on the phone. Instead he crouches on the floor by his eighth month old baby brother and encourages him to repeat the word by saying his name over and over. Quick little chants.

 _Dean. Dean. Dean._

Baby Sammy gets up on his hands and knees and rocks back and forth, wiggling his butt until he slides one knee forward and one hand with it and sets off at a shaky crawl across the room. Dean crawls beside him, rooting him on and laughing at the pleased grin on Sammy’s face. Dean doesn’t know what a milestone is, doesn’t know that Sammy’s just crossed some major ones, but he is immensely proud.

It’s the real beginning of their fate, their first crawls down a path that will stretch into the unknown future. Side by side. Dean watching his brother with wonder and awe. Sammy with unquestioning devotion.

 _Dean. Sammy. Dean._

~~

On Sammy’s second birthday Dean falls down the stair case outside their apartment building and knocks out his front tooth, flesh splitting and cracking along the cement. The pain is more than Dean has ever felt and he can’t fight back the sobs though he thinks he should be stronger. Dad picks him up and – in a rare moment of unyielding affection – sits Dean on his lap to dap a wet rag across broken flesh. Tears still fall from his cheeks though, even with soothing words from his father.

 _It’s okay son. You’re gonna be just fine._

It hurts really bad for the rest of the day and Dean occasionally has to stop and sniff loudly even if they get to have homemade hamburgers and macaroni n cheese for dinner. And cupcakes cause Sammy is two and that’s a pretty big deal. It still hurts even when Sammy smears frosting across his cheeks and laughs happily, watching Dean with wide green eyes.

Dean sort of thinks it’s going to hurt _forever_ because the pain is still there when he crawls under his blanket that night. Then the fabric along him is lifting and a tiny body is crawling onto the mattress with him. Dean easily lifts his arm and Sammy snuggles against his chest as if he was made just for that spot.

 _Is okay Dean?_

 _Yeah Sammy. Now it is._

~~

When Sammy is five Dean gets sent to the Principal’s office for beating up a kid on the playground. He doesn’t feel guilty though because that little punk deserved it. He does, however, feel very annoyed because the man sitting on the other side of the desk across from him is fat, and bald, and sweating in giant beads that slide down his forehead and pool at his collar. It’s gross and Dean can smell him, has to work hard to not pinch his nose at the fowl stench.

 _Now name one good reason I shouldn’t call your parents Dean…_

Dean tells him his mother is dead and tries not to smirk when the big fat man stumbles over his words. It gets them every time. And Dean gets away with it, promising the man he won’t do it again. He won’t as long as the punk kid never makes fun of Sammy for crying when he falls off the jungle gym again. Some things deserve a good butt whooping.

Sammy is waiting for him outside the school building, rubbing his hands together and shifting his weight back and forth from foot to foot. A tentative smile tugs at his lips when Dean sees him and with one nod from his older brother, Sammy’s face breaks into a grin. Their hands link within steps of each other and they walk home quietly. Dean squeezes Sammy’s hand when his little brother speaks.

 _That guy was a punk huh Dean?_

With a smile, Dean agrees.

~~

When Dean turns thirteen he can shoot off all the cans lined in a perfect row on the fence post. It makes his arm tingle and his ears ring. But it’s fun because every time he lowers his gun Sammy cheers and rushes over to set them up again. Dean kind of likes showing off for Sammy because his brother gets this look that makes Dean feel really important and he doesn’t feel that way often.

 _You’re the best shooter ever Dean._

Even though he knows he’s not better than Dad, Dean beams.

 _I’ll teach you how to do it Sammy, come here._

It’s pretty natural to sling his arm around his brother and teach him how to aim just right. By the end of the first row only one of the seven cans is still standing.

~~

Shortly after Sammy turns twelve he arrives home from school and chucks his backpack so hard across the room it knocks the lamp from the table, sending it crashing to the floor and shattering. Dean is eating a bowl of cereal but he’s instantly up and at his brother’s side, frown turning down lines on his face that are seeing more and more action every day.

 _I hate our lives._

Sammy sounds so sad Dean can’t help pulling him in for a full body hug. In truth he doesn’t disagree as much as he thinks he should. They have it rough sometimes but Dean knows Dad does the best he can. Dean has always been the more sensible of the two when it comes to the life they live.

When Dean asks Sammy what happened the boy refuses to talk about it. This is a pretty common thing too now-a-days. He could try to pry it out of him but he doesn’t. Instead he curls up with Sammy on the couch and they spend the rest of the afternoon and evening watching cheesy horror movies in black and white.

Once Sammy is tucked safely into bed, Dean cleans up broken glass and considers what to tell his Dad about the missing lamp.

In the morning he’s not that surprised to find Sammy curled against his side. But Sammy looks up at him with still sad eyes like he’s worried Dean might turn him away. As if Dean ever would.

 _It’s okay Sammy. I got you._

~~

Sixteen is the first year he leaves Sammy alone for more than a few days to go on a hunt with Dad. It’s always been just a couple days at a time before then. Dean spends more of the trip worried about Sammy at home – alone – then he does about the actual hunt. It turns okay though because the haunting turns out to be pretty standard as far as hauntings go. Still Dad seems to pick up on the concern, a rare act of insight into Dean’s mind.

 _I’m sure Sam’s throwing a party without us there._

For whatever the reason it makes Dean’s heart ache to imagine Sammy having so much fun without him. He tends to think Sammy might miss him as much as Dean misses him. That night in the motel room, when Dad goes out to get some beers in celebration for their successful salt and burn, Dean calls his brother.

They talk about Sammy’s school. About this girl that keeps giving Sammy _the look_. Dean laughs and teases him and knows Sammy’s blushing even if hundreds of miles are separating them. When the Impala pulls up, lights flashing across the room, Dean says he should go. Sammy tells him he loves him.

 _I love you too Sammy._

It’s an odd thing when he feels more lonely then before the call once he’s putting the phone back in its cradle and he drowns away the feeling with ice cold beer.

~~

The very first time Dean questions the way he feels about his brother is the day Sammy gets his acceptance letter from Stanford. Only it’s not really Sammy anymore, it’s Sam, and until then Dean hasn’t questioned why being constantly corrected on the nickname drives him so crazy. But Sam is glowing with happiness and Dean can’t help feeling pride, above the surprise hurt.

 _I got a full ride scholarship Dean! This means I can go and not have to pay._

It also means there’s no logical reason for him not to go. And when Sam - _Sammy_ \- pulls him tight for a long hug, Dean knows that he’s not reason enough. A twisted part of him thinks that if he’d been the one into learning, the one with the full ride scholarship, he would never go. Would never leave his baby brother behind because the truth was he couldn’t survive without him.

For the first night in years Dean falls asleep with tears streaming down his cheeks. Like a thousand nights before this one the blankets pull open to let in a burst of cool air and the familiar warmth of his brother’s body slides along his. Only it’s different because they aren’t two and six, they’re eighteen and twenty two and a heat bubbles up in Dean’s veins that is better than the one he gets when a pretty girl gives him interested eyes.

There is no doubt in his mind that he should tell Sam to go back to his own bed. But Dean lifts his arm and Sam folds easily into the space even though he’s a good two inches taller than Dean now. Sam whispers in the darkness that he’ll miss his older brother.

 _Yeah Sammy, I’ll miss you too._

Sam doesn’t correct him on the nickname this time. Dean is grateful because he’s not certain his heart can take that.

~~

Twenty two year old Sam is nearly five inches taller than Dean and he’s a little surprised he has to look up so much to meet his eyes. They’ve only seen each other a few times over the last four years – and haven’t spoken in the last two – but Dean feels that swell of emotions rise in him that only Sam seems to ignite. Sam is less than pleased at his appearance, even less so when he explains about their missing Dad. And Dean leers at the blond girl only because it’s the ground he feels most comfortable on.

He mumbles the words as they’re leaving so it’s not the much of a surprise that there is no response on Sam’s part.

 _I’ve missed you Sammy._

In the car together Dean is reminded of the years that have passed. Once upon a time Sam would spread across the seat when they were driving late at night and lay his head on Dean’s thigh to sleep. Now he sleeps against the window, curled in on himself.

 _I can’t do this alone._

 _Yes you can._

 _Yeah, well… I don’t want too._

What happens following that trip was never something he would have wished for his brother. It makes his heart ache in sympathy for the man and he wants to pull him close, hug him like he once would have, but it doesn’t work that way between them anymore.

~~

When Dean turns twenty seven they get pretty drunk because it’s how the Winchesters celebrate birthday’s now. Plus it’s been a rough few months since Dad passed away. For the first few rounds Dean thinks things are going to be tense and rough between them – the normal state of life now-a-days – but four rounds in a man walking across the bar slips on his friend’s puke and they share a look before stifling laughs in their arms.

 _Fuckin’… can’t breathe Sammy._

Dean is gasping and wheezing by the time they stumble into their motel room. He’s drunk enough the room is faintly fuzzy and it takes more then a minute to ensure he’s not going to topple over and crack his head on the desk. Sam is heavy against his side, clinging to him, body shaking with mirth and his breath escapes in little puffs along Dean’s neck.

It’s a general rule he keeps for himself to not get too close. To not let himself _feel_ this way about Sam. With alcohol and touching bodies it’s much harder to ignore. And there’s a moment of heavy tension, silent thoughts exchanged through locked eyes, before Dean’s world slides ten feet under and flips upside down.

 _Dean. Dean. Dean._

 _It’s okay Sammy. I got you._

They fall into each other as if they were made for it. As if every crawl – that’s morphed into steps and occasionally shifted into running – that they’ve taken down this whirlwind of their lives has led to this moment. Sam’s taste is like beer and salt. It burns against Dean’s tongue, scorches down his throats, settles in the pit of his stomach where it blossoms out and curls into his crotch.

As it’s always been their bodies mold together perfectly. Two halves of the same whole twisting and grinding against one another. Sam unfolds beneath him easily, coming apart at the seams and leaving Dean to pick up the pieces. His tongue along Sam’s skin is rough and wet and each gasp from his brother’s lips tells him it’s better than oxygen.

Every thrust forward sends him crashing into flesh and bone, makes the headboard thump loudly against the wall, sears heat into his brain.

 _Christ Dean._

 _Need you Sam._

Later, when they slide under the blankets and Sam tucks into his place against Dean’s body, Dean remembers life before. It’s almost as if everything was leading up to this one moment. From here every step they take will be down a different path, will lead them a different direction. It’s unknowing and would be terrifying if Dean couldn’t feel his brother’s slowing heat beat against his body.

Sammy whispers in the darkness.

 _You okay Dean?_

 _Yeah Sammy. Now I am._   



End file.
